


ceramic tiles

by codewc (orphan_account)



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, M/M, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 05:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10847280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/codewc
Summary: anonymous request: Russel and Murdoc calming each other after trauma-related flashbacks





	ceramic tiles

This Spirit House was (unironically) miserable.

It was just their luck. That being none. But, Murdoc wasn’t one for approaching this with a bad attitude (especially if this would reflect badly on him – _he wouldn’t have agreed if he KNEW this place was crawling with creepies, he swears_ ). So, some nights Murdoc would take a magazine with him and a pack of cigarettes up to the bathroom to unwind. If his room became too stuffy or if he was just aching to be in another room (Plastic Beach exposed the side of him that hated being in one place for too long), then that would be his option.

Murdoc didn’t expect Russel to be sitting on the john when he opened the bathroom door, so he shut it on instinct. Then, on processing what he had just seen, he realized Russel actually had his trousers on and was most definitely not _using_ the john. His eyes were puffy, though. From crying. Murdoc confirmed it for himself by opening the door once again.

He stands in the doorframe, watches as Russel wipes his face with his sleeve and sniffs. “Um, hey,” Russel greeted first. Embarrassed. Murdoc crosses his arms. “Hey.”

When Russel didn’t say anything further, Murdoc shifted on his feet. He sighed through his nose. “Are you going to tell me why you’re sitting in a bathroom at 3AM crying, or?”

Russel clenches and unclenches his hands and mirrors Murdoc’s sigh. “I’d rather not.” That was it, then. Murdoc could just leave and go back to his room, pretending like this never happened. It sounded like an excellent idea at that moment. But with the combination of Russel’s dismissal of him, Murdoc’s general stubbornness and that it’s his time in the bathroom, dammit, Murdoc decided to walk pass Russel and sit on the edge of the bath adjacent the toilet. It wasn’t because he was concerned. Certainly not.

Another moment of silence passes and Murdoc felt compelled to say something as Russel took a deep breath to relax. “It’s weird, innit?” he rolled the magazine in his hands. “Having the toilet right next to the bath. Kind of gross. The other bathroom doesn’t look like this.”

“Then why didn’t you go to the other bathroom,” Russel muttered under his breath. Murdoc didn’t think much of it, felt removed from the conversation. Then Russel sighs again, frowns at the tiles as he lifted his head to look at Murdoc. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I’m…actually glad that you’re here.” Murdoc only shrugs, decides he’s not too upset about it.

The way Russel slightly swiveled reminded Murdoc of a time at Kong… _” I don’t know where I am,” Russel breathed, “give me something to hold, please. I want to know if this is real.”_ Derealisation. That was it. Murdoc doesn’t hand Russel his magazine or his pack of cigarettes. He instead takes Russel’s hand.

At first, he envelops Russel’s thumb in his palm but then switches to palm on palm. Murdoc gives him a squeeze. Russel doesn’t pull or push away and just closes his eyes, breathes in and out from his mouth, and returns the squeeze.

Murdoc wanted something to distract himself from…whatever this was. So, he struggled to unfold the magazine with his one hand, leans forward to read an article about avocadoes. When it came to Russel, it was serious, so Murdoc waits for him to explain himself.

Eventually, Murdoc felt eyes on him. He lifts his head and looks at Russel with raised eyebrows, encouraging him to speak. “I…I thought I saw something,” Russel scratches his shoulder, “and it reminded me of…I had this flashback of The Xavier School.” Murdoc shifted in his seat. It really wasn’t all that comfortable sitting on the edge of a bath. “Er…go on,” he said, not knowing what else to say. No matter how many times Murdoc would find Russel talking about this, it was still foreign to him. He knew all about it, sure, but having to hear people’s sob stories has always been…difficult to digest for Murdoc.

“I thought that I was possessed again and that… _that_ would happen again. That I’d hurt you guys, so I,” he chuckles to himself, oddly, “so I ran to the bathroom to hide? I don’t know.” Russel finally drops his hand onto his stomach, breathes a defeated sigh. “I lost focus. I lost focus and just look at me. I’m crying in a bathroom at 3AM. It’s my fault.”

In times of spite, Murdoc would try to imagine what would knock Russel over. Maybe it was because Russel was reminiscent of his childhood bullies (large, looming frame), but it made Murdoc snigger at the thought of Russel being taken down by a breeze. Now, however, it stunned Murdoc. Watching Russel – a big, strong, intimidating man – be so shook from a _thought_ …it’s so alien. If _this_ could scare Russel (what had scared Murdoc in the past), of all people, then…

Murdoc squints at Russel trying to find the words. He couldn’t say he exactly related to this. During interviews, Murdoc found himself being equally irritable when they try to dress Russel’s issues with possession as a gimmick, if only because of moments like these. But it wasn’t like he’d experience anything akin to it. He was just a bystander. Murdoc tries to imagine what he’d want to hear in this situation, instead. But then he realized that he wouldn’t hear anything because someone would’ve just left by now. He huffed, grips the magazine in his hand and just let whatever fall out of his mouth. It wasn’t like it was going to be any worse than what he was thinking of.

“You know it’s okay, right?” he ended up saying. Russel can only blink rapidly, quite confused and waiting for Murdoc to continue. Murdoc drops the magazine next to his side and goes to hold Russel’s hand with both of his now. “To feel this way. Scared shitless because of your whole…possession thing. You do know that, right?”

Russel’s lips tightened. “I just,” Murdoc’s thumb traces Russel’s knuckles, the other rubbed his palm, “I get it, you know? I mean – wanting to escape but worried you’ll lose yourself, yeah? You’re handling this well, all things considered. I mean, you got through this, “he gestures to, well, Russel. “That’s impressive.” Murdoc doesn’t make eye contact. “You’re not,” he huffed, “you’re not a failure for being scared. Just makes you human.” He’s making a fool himself, probably. He should’ve just left. He wasn’t built for this. He can feel Russel’s stare grow stronger by the second. Calculating. He’s going to laugh at him.

But Russel doesn’t. He takes one more deep breath before he nods to himself. “Yeah, yeah, I think you’re right,” he says and smiles at Murdoc. “Thanks.” Murdoc, relieved, smirks and scoffs, but doesn’t let go of Russel’s hand. “You’re very welcome.”

The two continue to sit there, holding hands, and glancing at each other. Neither had plans of moving – Murdoc was distracted with prodding Russel’s hand, weirdly proud of himself from what just took place and Russel was too tired to leave, but maybe also wanting to share this moment with Murdoc a little longer – so Russel nods in the magazine’s direction. “What’re you reading?”

That keeps them up for another four hours.

**Author's Note:**

> my gay gorillaz blog is @russdoc


End file.
